Chapter 2

Henry took his eyes from the road and chanced a look at the man sitting next to him. His face was still obscured by his hoody, but he appeared to be young. He wore black horn-rimmed glasses, similar to those worn by the professor himself, and had a black scruff of a beard. He looked vaguely familiar. He was still shivering, and his teeth were chattering.

“You should get out of those wet clothes. Do you have something dry to put on?” Henry asked

The man nodded. “In my backpack.”

“Can you reach it?”

The man nodded again. He undid his seat belt, leaned over the seat, and pulled his pack over into the front. Placing it on the floor between his legs, he sat back, and shook his head. “I guess I shoulda checked the weather report before I left school. That was kinda dumb.”

Henry turned toward his passenger. “Well, I checked the weather, and I’m out here anyway. So who’s the dum…?”

Henry didn’t finish as the man had pulled off his sweatshirt, and now was stripping off his tee. The sight of the man’s handsome face and hair-covered, lightly-muscled torso caught Henry off guard. He was surprised at his reaction. He hadn’t felt such attraction since Jeremy died. Henry forced his eyes back to the snow-covered highway.

The man pulled a fresh tee from his backpack and put it on. He spread his wet things on his pack where the warm air from the heater could dry them. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re still cold. There’s a sweatshirt on the backseat next to a stack of pies I’m bringing home for Christmas,” the professor said.

“Thanks.”

The man reached over the seat once more. He put on Henry’s sweatshirt. It was much too big for him, but Henry figured it was better than the thin, cotton, sleeveless shirt the guy was wearing

“I really appreciate this, Professor Rodimacher.”

Surprised, Henry turned to the man again. “You know me?”

“I do. It’s been a while. I took your Intro to Anthropology when I was a freshman. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Jimmy Wilkes.”

Henry studied the man’s face. From somewhere in his memory banks the image of a handsome, young man who always sat near the front of the class and was an eager participant came forth. He also remembered chastising himself at the time for the intense attraction he’d felt to the young student.

“Jimmy! Yes, yes I do remember you. How long ago was it?”

“About ten years.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Teaching high school history. But I’ve come back to school for my doctorate.”

“That’s wonderful! What field?”

Jimmy looked over at his former professor and smiled. “Archeology—thanks to you. I never forgot how much I enjoyed being in your class, and anthropology combined with my love of history—well archeology seemed a natural direction for me to take.”

Before Henry could respond, another semi roared by, covering the windshield with slush and causing the car to sway.

Henry frowned. “We need to get off the freeway and find somewhere to stay. I don’t have a clue as to how long it will take to get to Knoxville at this rate. I don’t want some idiot truck driver, thinking he’s invincible, running us off the road.” 2

They crept along the highway for another few miles. An exit sign came into view. It was partially covered with snow.

“Can you read it?” Henry asked.

“I think it says Crossville.”

“Ever been there?”

“No.”

Henry sighed. “Me either. Well, we’ll just have to take our chances that there’ll be a motel.”

Henry half-hoped that if they found lodging, there would be a shortage of rooms because of the storm, thus forcing the two men to share one. The thought of spending the night in a motel with this handsome young man both excited and frightened Henry. He closed his mind to the fantasies which were emerging.

Henry did his best to find the exit ramp, which was buried in deep drifts. At the end of the ramp a sign read, Crossville nine miles. Henry took another steadying breath and turned onto what should have been a two-lane paved road. Now, it appeared to be an arctic wasteland. The snow here was deeper than on the highway. It was over the bumper of the low slung sedan. The car could barely get traction. “Shit! We should’ve stayed on the freeway. Too late now,” Henry lamented through gritted teeth.

Jimmy turned to look at Henry and gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s gonna be okay, professor. I got a good feeling about this.” Jimmy reached over and laid a hand on Henry’s thigh.